


Devouring Scarlet

by ezlebe



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Biting, Blood Drinking, Cunnilingus, F/F, Femlux, Rule 63, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 17:24:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21256931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ezlebe/pseuds/ezlebe
Summary: “Wine, my lady?” A butler asks, followed by a tray of filled glasses directly abreast.Ren spares the human a withering look while taking a glass, then dismisses them with a turn of her cheek while refocusing on Miss Armitage, tracing her ostensibly calculated path between guests. It’s a fascinating thing to watch, entertaining beyond any theater show, and with twice the potential for dramatics. Armitage is rather new to the scene, a true English lady from across the pond, as Ren’s been told, and she’s surely beguiling the masses with an iron smile and a gait like a soldier.Ren is only slightly bothered that she's not immune.





	Devouring Scarlet

“Wine, my lady?” A butler asks, followed by a tray of filled glasses directly abreast.

Ren spares the human a withering look while taking a glass, then dismisses them with a turn of her cheek while refocusing on Miss Armitage, tracing her ostensibly calculated path between guests. It’s a fascinating thing to watch, entertaining beyond any theater show, and with twice the potential for dramatics. Armitage is rather new to the scene, a true English _lady_ from across the pond, as Ren’s been told, and she’s surely beguiling the masses with an iron smile and a gait like a soldier.

Ren is only slightly bothered that she's not immune. She’s been caught on Armitage since two weeks past, when she first saw bright, beautiful hair through the window of a shop, attached to a woman sternly leaning across the counter and thoroughly intimidating a cobbler. It had taken every bit of self-control not to walk in and introduce herself that very day.

She wants to do it right, though, to earn and _savor_ Miss Armitage’s company, which requires impressing rather than accosting. She hasn’t been approached yet, but it’s understandable – she’s only here among the humans by her own manipulations, not familial or business reputation. She can see Miss Armitage is going down from bankers to businessmen, from heirs to made wealth, shaking hands and curtsying with more understanding of the subclasses than Ren has interest.

It’s a curious test of patience, idly chatting about households with dowdy heiresses while waiting for Armitage to acknowledge her, as she’s had to have _seen_ Ren – it’s difficult to hide her form, even under the draping and buttoned frocks of a proper gentlewoman. She wonders for a moment if she’s being ignored on purpose; if Hux has somehow already realized the fact Ren wasn’t strictly _invited_ by anyone.

Ren takes a tentative sip of the wine, finding it agreeable enough, for alcohol, and lowers the glass only to see Miss Armitage has somehow _disappeared_. She feels a sinking in her gut and glances around the room with quick sweeps of her eyes, then settles back at the landlord that Armitage had been speaking with only moments past. Had _he_ said something that might cause her to vanish?

Ren glares back when the human inevitably feels her stare, half a mind to go over there and draw the bastard into a corner just for the waste of her time. He looks like he tastes bitter.

“Hello,” a voice interrupts the musing, lilting at the edges with an accent. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Ren feels her breath catch and spine straighten in the oddest sort of reflex; it’s not often she’s caught unaware. She glances backward, finding Miss Armitage next to the window, her form half shadowed and fiery hair blending into the candlelight.

A few clicks of heels have Armitage more solid, bearing a small smirk across her heart-shaped mouth. “I’m Millicent Armitage.”

“Ren,” she responds, rolling her lips together briefly before forcing a smile.

“Ren,” Armitage repeats, if softer, then reaching out with a bent hand. “Lovely to meet you.”

“And you,” Ren says, loosely grabbing at Armitage’s fingers and offering a small curtsy.

Armitage tips her head, using her still raised hand to gesture at the ballroom. “Are you enjoying my party, Mrs – ?”

“Miss,” Ren corrects, drawing out the word while lowering her voice some, willing Armitage not to push further for a surname. “And yes. Your home is lovely.”

“Miss?” Armitage repeats, though it’s hardly said with any of the usual disapproval, instead paired to a pleasant, thoughtful hum and a noticeable step closer. “A lovely woman like you, all on her own? I see we have more in common than height.”

Ren feels heat flush across her nape. She did not expect Armitage to be so bold, and the subtle charms she so carefully prepared to impart may be little more than needless. “So we do.”

Armitage hums low again and suddenly her hand is confident at Ren’s elbow, stroking down until gloved fingers are soft at the exposed skin at her wrist. “Tell me, did you enjoy the wine?”

Ren glances to the glass, forgotten in her opposite hand, then swallows with some difficulty. “I, uh, I’m not much for wine.”

Armitage leans in even closer, her grip shifting while she brings her other hand up to clasp over the top of Ren’s knuckles. “I could get you something else.”

Ren stares at Armitage’s hands, small against her own and strangely cool. Perfect, really.

“You only need to ask,” Armitage continues, her voice dropping in a particularly telling manner.

Ren peeks up to Armitage’s eyes, finding them steady on. She couldn’t have predicted this – she expected to have to court the stern Lady Armitage, not simply… be seduced. “What do you think I’d like?”

“I have a private collection. Perhaps, if you’re interested,” Hux pauses, a smirk plain across her face, if an unreadable tone to her voice; it’s evocative, almost, or simply confident. “I might show you?”

Ren makes a point to blink widely, trying to seem more politely taken aback at the directness than generally bemused. “Oh, that might be…” She looks out at the rest of the room, feigning concern. “But it’s the middle of your party, Miss Armitage.”

Armitage goes still for a beat, then clears her throat, brows suddenly furrowing in a worryingly irked manner. “Do call me Hux, thank you.”

Ren blinks twice, feeling almost scolded and trying to remember if she’s heard that name said tonight. “Hux?”

“Yes,” Arm- _Hux _says with a marked inhale, her expression returning to that placid friendliness and her voice dropping again to that odd tone. “And I’ve already spoken to everyone I wished to, Miss Ren, saving the best for last.”

Ren nods slowly, feeling peculiar about the conversation suddenly, but unsure of why that could be – aside for, of course, Hux singling her out. She glances briefly again to the crowd, across various faces of other unattached women, certainly lovelier and petite, before focusing back on Hux. Peculiar or not, it is to her benefit; she can only hope the motive is not sinister, though the result would really be no different, simply sooner.

“Come,” Hux says firmly, turning on her heel.

Ren glances down to the near-full glass still in her hand, wondering if she might just leave it on a shelf, only to stiffen when a servant crosses her path with an offered empty tray. She stares at him for a beat, eyes narrowing, then places the glass at the center.

The servant lingers too long, his eyes curiously soft before his head drops with the oddest wince. “Have a good evening, ma’am.”

“I shall,” Ren says flatly, briefly revealing her other face with a snarl and watching him shrink backward. She straightens her hair while he hastily flees, smiling briefly at a curious onlooker, then moves to follow Hux toward the outer hall. She can only hope the servant isn’t so loyal as to somehow notify his mistress before Ren has had her fill.

Hux stands at the foot of the staircase, one hand alighting on the railing, “Trouble?”

“Not a bit,” Ren says, glancing up the staircase, only to pause at the lone piece of art: a pair of snarling wolves mid-argument. She wonders if it came with the house. “Upstairs, you said?”

Hux nods with a tip of her head, soon taking the stairs with soft brushes of her skirts against the steps. She leads Ren down a darkened hall to a well-decorated, if not particularly ornate, office that greets with a wide, imposing desk facing the door, though the true focus of the room seems to be behind it: a pale blue chaise. It is turned toward the window with a gleaming chandelier lit above it, making it almost appear on display in its reflection.

“Here we are,” Hux says, crossing the room to pause at an inlaid cabinet, pulling open the doors. “What sort do you prefer – oaky, or maybe fruity? I’ve managed to be gifted far more than I might ever drink.”

Ren looks across the display of bottles, organized by size and filled with alcohols of various colors; she’s curious of the greenish one, certainly absinthe, but not quite in the mood to retch. “I must admit… It wasn’t simply the wine – the taste of alcohol disgusts me.”

Hux stares at her a beat, then tips her head. She looks back to the bottles with a hum, then reaches behind them to reveals a dark red liquid that makes Ren’s brows raise. “That’s alright. Would you like a cranberry juice? I discovered a weakness for it when I settled here.”

Ah.

Ren responds with a short hum, looking up to Hux’s attentive face. “Maybe one.”

Hux nods and takes up a pair of glasses and another bottle, bringing them to the window sill in front of the chaise. She looks at Ren while she pours, staining the glass crimson. “Have you been here long?”

Ren takes the glass when it’s offered, tempted to answer truthfully to see if it’s taken as a joke. “Quite some time, yes, but my family resides in Providence.”

“It’s a lovely city,” Hux says, stoppering the glass of her own bottle, some sort of pale amber liquid that Ren can smell the honey in without even shifting forms. “I’ve heard some reservations, but they’ve been proved drivel.”

“Ah,” Ren says, lifting the glass for an experimental smell and taste of the cranberry juice, surprised to find it perfectly tart – how on earth has Hux kept it from spoiling in that cabinet? It’s not remotely chilled.

“I must confess,” Hux says, swirling her drink and then taking a sip, eyes strangely fixed on Ren the entire time. “You captured me from the very minute you stepped in my home. You strike the most lovely figure.”

Ren resists the urge to roll her eyes – a second time now that her height has been mentioned.

“You must be terribly strong,” Hux muses, walking a curious circle, then reaching out and not-quite touching while tracing the breadth of Ren’s shoulder. “I can see that even through the frock.”

Ren glances down at Hux’s hand as it retreats, bitingly briefly at the inside of her lip; ah, she had literally meant her figure. “I often go out in the orchards or train the horses – good activity.”

“Certainly is,” Hux says, taking another sip from her drink before tilting sideways to set the glass down on the sill. She is still for a moment, then moves just a bit closer with a half-step forward, hem of her gown a weight against Ren’s leg. “It does beg the question what you might look like more comfortable.”

Ren offers an honestly startled blink, feeling a flush spread ever further up her ears and feeling almost like she's floundering, so much less used to being on this side of things. “I might be… amenable to showing you.”

“Might you?” Hux says, raising an eyebrow with a tilt of her head.

“If reciprocated, perhaps,” Ren says, recovering some and making a point to glance down Hux’s front before gesturing with a turn of her hand. “You are a most exquisite woman, Lady Hux.”

Hux smiles small, her head dropping a spare measure; she’s been so confident, in every manner, yet this single expression is so delightfully bashful.

“I must admit I only hoped you might notice me,” Ren continues, reaching up to play at nerves with a tug at the edge of her low collar. Her goal for the night seems to be falling in her lap; hopefully, more literally in quick time. “Everything since... has been my deepest imagining.”

“How charming of you to say,” Hux says, her more neutral smile tragically resettling across her mouth.

Ren wets her own lips slightly before taking another sip of the cranberry juice. “Did you have somewhere in mind?”

Hux hums low, the suddenly dares to pluck the glass from Ren’s hand. She glances tellingly over Ren’s shoulder to the sofa while she sets it aside. “The chaise is lovely, isn’t it? It’s one of the few pieces I refused to leave behind.”

Ren turns his head some, then nods slightly, trying not to be too aware of Hux so close. She has the strongest urge to scent her, but that would certainly be noticed from just an inch or so away. “It is… of impeccable taste.”

“I’ve had it quite some time,” Hux says, her hand unexpected when it pushes lightly at Ren’s center, urging her back one step, then another, “Once you sprawl upon it, you won’t think to get up.”

Ren allows herself to be guided the few more paces backward, offering a smirk back when she sits upon the chaise and Hux peers down on her with a smug look; she must admit that it is comfortable, even sitting on damnable petticoats. She looks to her frock, tugging hard at one of many buttons, only to blink when Hux shoos her hands away after only seconds. “Don’t you – ”

“Hush,” Hux scolds, taking over, and admittedly the manner that she proceeds could almost be a spell, divesting Ren of her jacket and bodice in half the usual time. She shocks with a swipe of cool fingers over Ren’s exposed collarbone, down to the edge of her shift still trapped behind her corset. “Yes, there you are.”

Ren doesn’t bother to suppress her smirk, pushing her chest out some; of course, even the poised Lady Hux can be done in by a bit of cleavage. She catches Hux’s eyes next, dark and half-lidded, and moves upward in the next moment to capture soft lips in a risk.

Hux squeaks slightly, but doesn’t pull away, hand briefly tightening on Ren’s shoulder before pulling away with a tut. “Eager, are we?”

“Some,” Ren admits, reaching out and trailing her fingers down Hux’s skirts, watching the layers fold at her touch.

“Turn around,” Hux says, tugging again at Ren’s shoulder with more purpose. “By how you handled those buttons, I’d be surprised if you could unlace yourself.”

Ren frowns while she turns; she admittedly does have some trouble, and uses her magic more often than not, but Hux certainly doesn’t know of it. “Rather rude.”

“The truth is sometimes painful,” Hux says, unabashed while proceeding to yank at Ren’s back.

Ren takes a deep breath once the laces loosen, though the corset wasn’t particularly tight – it’s simply stiff, mostly used to support her bosom, and rather uncomfortable after more than a few hours. She pulls from Hux’s grasp to shrug it off her shoulders, standing a beat later and looking down while she starts in on her own skirts. She can undress herself.

And ignore Hux’s mocking huff. She may be refined and comely, but that’s little excuse to treat Ren brusquely – if she knew who she was dealing with, she’d be far more respectful.

She turns around once her petticoats and shoes are in a pile, down to her chemise and bloomers, and finds Hux still watching her and quite tragically fully clothed. She starts unpinning her hair, gesturing with a tilt of her head, “You’re overdressed, Lady Hux.”

Hux raises a brow and reaches up to her neck, pulling loose the frill before reaching for buttons underneath, and the slow reveal of her throat is almost sinful to witness. She offers a brash look before continuing down her front, shedding the subtly embroidered red jacket and matching bodice to reveal a simple shift and button stay underneath, a petticoat high-waisted and tight under the outer dress.

Ren approaches her and reaches out, briefly tracing around Hux’s hips with an eye toward the shape. “Are you wearing one of those new hoops?”

Hux blinks at her, then ruffs her petticoat up to show the structure underneath. “No, it’s something I constructed it myself – more flexible.”

“Ah,” Ren says, looking down at it and understanding the adjustment; she’s been resistant to move with the new fashion herself, preferring layering petticoats to crinoline that looks too stiff to bear.

Hux reaches backward, her neck arcing attractively while she unlaces the outer petticoats and steps out of the frame with a glance toward Ren. She looks down a beat later, unbuttoning her stay, then pulling it off with a startling peek of her abdomen under her shift. She is even more delicate than she first seemed, her limbs narrow and her collarbone standout, shift disturbed only barely by the small swells of each breast.

Ren wets her lips before moving to take Hux’s mouth again, sliding hands up her waist and taking the opportunity to draw her thumb against a nipple that quickly stiffens under her touch. She gasps when Hux sees fit to do better, her cool fingers slipping up Ren’s chemise to grope her bare and drive heat straight to her groin.

She takes a step back seeking the lounge, pulling Hux along with a wrap of her other hand around her waist. The chaise absorbs their weight without even a creak, and she pulls Hux down with a tug at the edge of her hem, indulgently kissing light at her neck with a – oh. Odd. Her blood is slow.

“You shouldn’t have let your hair down,” Hux says, oddly loud while pulling Ren back into the moment with a sharp tug and holding there for a brief moment, then relaxing and proceeding to tease at the curls with little tugs. “It’ll be an absolute nest in quick time.”

“I have a comb,” Ren counters, feeling a prompt spark of arousal when the next pull goes to the roots. She shifts back on the chaise, pulling Hux along, and dares now to scent with a brief inhale of both her nose and mouth; she can smell her now, beneath the subtle perfumes, and she is _delicious_.

She looks down when Hux releases her hair to instead start pulling on her chemise, watching her buttons part under clever fingers and moaning when Hux leans down to lick at a nipple. She parts her legs slightly, leaning back to drag Hux up into another kiss with a hand around her nape and another squeezing at her side. She starts to pull at Hux's button's, as well, only to be distracted from it when their kiss gets deeper, a clever tongue meeting hers with sparest hesitation.

Hux hums into the kiss, soon pressing Ren flat to the cushion while both hands slide up from her chest to settle at her collarbone. She pulls back with a mutter of something quiet and perhaps foreign, her lips brushing soft against Ren’s jaw with a nudge for her to turn her cheek.

Ren lets her head be turned, bemused when Hux proceeds to nose at her throat with an audible inhale, then suddenly, like a crack of a whip, everything comes together. “Oh,” she says, huffing slightly and squeezing at the little jut of Hux’s hip. “You’re hunting me.”

Hux pulls away and blinks in visible alarm, mouth opening surely to defend herself.

“I was you, as well,” Ren admits, trying not to be disappointed. Her hunger will have to wait – the literal sort, anyway, as Hux may still prove satiating in other ways.

Hux’s expression falls and she shoves off Ren with frankly offensive haste. “You’re a hunter?”

“No,” Ren says, scoffing under her breath and feeling entirely awkward defending herself while bare-chested. “What an awful think to say.”

“You’re warm,” Hux says flatly, sneering with a short jut of her chin.

“Well, I’m not – ” Ren pauses, realizing something marginally important, though she tends not to usually care, but the conversation calls for it. “You know, I’d like to know why you didn’t announce yourself to me upon your arrival.”

“Announce myself to you,” Hux repeats, her voice incredulous, “Why the hell would I do that?”

“Tradition, for one,” Ren says, toying with the idea of bringing out her primal face. She decides against it a beat later, simply turning her head and lifting her nose up. “And politeness, for another. I do not enjoy surprises.”

“Tradition, what does that – ?” Hux goes quiet and shifts back even further on the chaise, alarm in her expression while she looks Ren up and down, and not quite with the earlier admiration. “_You’re_ the city sovereign?” She asks in a pitchy, awful tone, lips immediately rolling together in evident distress. “The Nabèrrie?

“We go by Organa now, actually,” Ren says, shifting up to prop herself up higher on the arm and running a hand through her loosened hair. “New world, new name.”

It’s not true in the least, but she’s hardly going to go into her family’s history for someone she wants to see her as more than spectacle.

“Ah,” Hux says, pulling away further, reaching up to mess about straightening her blouse, which is truly the worst thing she could be doing. “But you are highborn. A bloody _Princess, _at that.”

Ren panics some, watching Hux’s flawless skin disappear behind thick fabric. “My father is human.”

Hux pauses bodily, looking up and leaning just slightly forward. “You’re dhampir… and still heir?”

“_No_,” Ren amends, rolling her lips together and trying not to be frustrated, but _she’s_ still half naked, and they were both well onto something pleasant only moments ago. She couldn’t care less about anyone’s damned heritage. “I mean he was. Isn’t anymore. He’s like you.”

Hux narrows her eyes, pretty mouth pursing.

Ren thinks she should just leave now, spare herself, and perhaps more formally bring Hux into the fold. But she does only think it. “I hardly consider any vampire lesser because of their origin.”

“But surely you have _thralls, _Princess,” Hux sneers, a certain tone of discontent in her voice.

“None personally,” Ren says, bemused, wondering if Hux is some sort of activist. She doesn’t particularly seem like one, as generally they don’t lure people to their deaths on false pretenses; boring, really. “I don’t particularly have time for humans, though, I’m not sure how – “

“I see,” Hux interrupts, mouth tilting more now with embarrassment.

Ah. Has Hux never encountered her sort? Ren will simply need to show her there is no reason to be wary.

She rolls her lips together, preparing, only to realize something that might be trouble. “Are you part of _any_ clan? I wouldn't want to risk my city.”

“No,” Hux says, though rather than being proud of it, like it seemed she might, she actually sounds wry.

“Good,” Ren says, making her voice breathy, exposing her neck with a demonstrative tilt of her head and thrusting out her bosom. “I would hate to find out this wasn’t going to lead anywhere.”

Hux glances down and back up, then hums, almost mockingly, “That hardly means I’m _not_ here to make bid for your territory, Nabèrrie – _Organa_. Either or.”

Oh.

“I had heard many accounts that assured me you’d gone elsewhere,” Hux continues, turning her nose up just slightly to look down the length of it at Ren. “So you’re not doing a particularly good job controlling it.”

“I’ve no need to do a thing, the city population is small and respectful,” Ren says, letting loose a scowl that has been at the edge of her expression. 

Hux offers a tut, audibly skeptical. “I also heard stories of a vampire massacring half a ball not ten years ago – are you not worried that might happen a second time right under your nose?”

“No,” Ren says slow, trying not to plainly wince; she hoped that story would expand past the bounds of the city, but not quite in this manner. “I would hardly call it a massacre, really, just a – a few vampires and humans who deserved it.”

“I see.” Hux surprises with a lean in close, her hand settling on the sofa just against Ren’s bare side. “So you have done one or two things_ — _are any what you’re _meant_ to?”

Ren is startled to feel a flush spread anew across her ears, some from anger, but also… Her being half-naked while suffering a scolding seems to be making it entirely different. She hunches her shoulders in some bid to hide it, suddenly wary if she looked down that her nipples would be standing stiff from her breast. 

Hux somehow doesn’t seem to spot the struggle. “When was the last time you took a census of the population?”

Ren rolls her lips together. “I haven’t.”

“Do you actually hold court?” Hux demands next, leaning in even closer and prompting Ren to peer up at her face, a little stern but mostly smug – an expression that makes it rather clear that she certainly has noticed. “Or open your home? Would I even have had _opportunity_ to announce myself to you?”

“No,” Ren admits, then risks reaching up flipping a loose piece of hair off Hux’s forehead.

Hux’s frown deepens, though it’s unclear if it’s from the answer or the action. “What do your kinfolk think?”

“Who cares,” Ren says, rolling her eyes and feeling all arousal threaten to utterly disappear at the mention of her _family_. “Do you want me between your legs or not?” She whines, reaching out to touch at Hux’s thigh through her remaining petticoat and bloomers. “You can depose me later.”

Hux purses her lips, then exhales a heavy breath. “I can’t. You’re highborn.”

Ren pouts slightly, leaning back and using a pair of fingers to tug her chemise further down her waist. “I told you, I don’t – ”

“Not that, you utter _nymphomaniac_,” Hux snaps, glancing down and then back up with a few too many blinks. “I can’t depose you now – the traditionalists wouldn’t have it.”

Ren can’t quite believe she’s got her diddies out while being lectured about blood status; she has half a mind to swoon from boredom. It’s certainly less fun than Hux outright scolding her. “I’ll make you my premier if you promptly satisfy me.”

Hux is quiet for a beat, then actually dares to scoff. “How many people have you offered your domain for a bit of pleasure?”

“None,” Ren mutters sullenly, exhaling heavily and turning her eyes on the whitewashed ceiling. “I’ve never been ignored halfway through before.”

“Halfway is exaggerating,” Hux says, and then her hand is cool at Ren’s jaw, a determined pull of fingers prompting her to look back down. “But I take your offer.”

She moves back and stands in the next instant, at odds with the agreement, only to then shed her petticoat with a smart turn of her wrists against the waistband laces. Her legs underneath are long and delicate; the clocks of her stockings finely embroidered and the design disappearing into bloomers that she starts untying next.

“I was curious why you singled me out,” Ren admits, kicking her own bloomers off her legs before settling back down on the lounge with a stretch of her spine. “Mentioned my size. I’ve never thought about how much I might feed someone.”

Hux is quiet for a few beats, then tuts, undoing her blouse a second time that night. “I singled you out because you’re the type of woman I like, Miss Organa – if I wanted only a meal, anyone would do.”

Ren blinks and feels color in her cheeks at the simple declaration. She tries to hide it with a drop of her head while she reaches out to pull Hux in, distracting herself twice over sliding her hands up the exposed skin of Hux’s waist and squeezing over the small swells of her breast.

Hux huffs slightly and makes as if to swat her away, only to then grab at Ren’s forearms and lean in, moving to bear down on top of her. It’s obvious now that she’s not-_quite_ cool to the touch, but her skin is sinfully soft as she slides down against Ren, quickly settling above with a tilted head like she’s inspecting; it’s different to the first time, somehow more genuine, and she clearly doesn’t feel the need to be gentle by the strength of her grip.

Ren spreads her legs, doing her best to direct Hux to the cunt now aching between them.

“So needy,” Hux responds idly, dropping now to completely press into Ren, one leg slipping into the space afforded it with a cocked head and a raised brow. “Wherever is your dignity?”

“Between my thighs,” Ren says, canting her hips pointedly, then biting down as she feels slick seep from her pussy at the flex. She reaches down to rub at it, the ache inside her spiking, only to whimper when a thin hand grabs her wrist in a vice.

“Of course,” Hux says, shoving Ren’s hand back onto the cushion, her eyes flashing, “Perhaps I might find it for you.”

Ren drags her teeth across her lip, relaxing the bite as she tilts her chin up. “Maybe.”

Hux releases her grip on Ren’s wrist slowly, drawing attention to her other hand with a roll of a nipple as she leans down, taking Ren’s mouth in a sharp kiss. She licks inward, tongue less teasing than the first time, while she uses the offending hand for better things, like sliding down Ren’s body to settle over her mound.

Ren bites at Hux’s lip, arching upward and wrapping a hand down Hux’s narrow back to squeeze at the swell of her ass. She groans when Hux bites back, with teeth, iron briefly on her tongue while Hux sucks at her lip.

A drop of Hux’s hand prompts heat to flash up Ren’s skin, driving her to spread her legs wider as fingers press at her clit. She moans into the kiss as Hux begins to move in circles, then again when those fingers delve lower, massaging with heavy, taunting swipes over her swollen pussy while the heel of said hand presses against her clit. She soon feels the certain sensation of her folds being spread open, eagerly canting her hips at the following tease of crooked fingers.

Hux pulls away from the kiss to press her lips instead to Ren’s ear. “Did you really enjoy our argument so much?”

“Some,” Ren admits, turning to catch Hux’s eye and feeling a twitch of a smile across her face. She jerks slightly when cool fingers pinch hard at her nipple, and squeezes Hux’s ass in turn, stretching some to drop her fingers inside the cleft and further until she feels Hux wet at her fingertips.

“So did I,” Hux whispers, rocking backward for a moment before abruptly shifting bodily further down the chaise. Her tongue is a shock beside her fingers, licking a stripe up between Ren’s folds while her fingers rub slow, slick circles.

Ren chokes some, spreading her legs wider at the feeling, then hears a moan break from her throat when Hux’s fingers slide in slow and deep. She rocks into the first thrust, urging the fingers deeper, and wants to reach down so badly, maybe touch Hux’s soft hair, but –

“Oh, there – that’s – ” she inhales shaky, moving just slightly against the repeated thrusts and turns of Hux’s fingers into the perfect spot. She covers her face with her arms, quickly feeling her lashes get wet, then tears slipping down her face while her cheeks burn, swallowing hard in a way that does tragically little to mute her gasps. She doesn’t understand how Hux has unraveled her so quickly, reduced her to quivering with only a few touches.

She can soon feel herself throbbing around Hux’s fingers, her awareness little more than the pressure in her groin and the dread that she’ll come too soon, as it’s all so much – Hux’s tongue wet and slick over her clit, almost overwhelming alone, but then there’s the press inside, so good it almost hurts. She peeks down her body, seeing Hux’s looking back over her mound, and squeezes her eyes shut at the following pulse that reduces her to a sob.

She just wants this to last forever.

A stronger throb drives her to curl her legs over Hux’s shoulders with a moan, thighs trying to close while her cunt contracts hard, and then over and over again, sending bursting stars across her closed lids. She blearily opens her eyes when her breath returns and her body relaxes, thinking she may’ve shouted, as her mouth is wide open; she shudders against lingering sensation, whining when Hux retreats cruelly from between her legs.

“Look at you,” Hux whispers, wet mouth pressing to the cooling edge of Ren’s tear-tracked cheek. “At my mercy.”

Ren tilts her head into the kiss, looking up when Hux moves, then reaching out to try and hook a hand around a bony wrist when Hux shifts off the chaise. No, she can’t go; Ren still wants to touch her.

Hux doesn’t go far, though, only to the door to turn the lock.

“Was someone there?” Ren asks, slightly aghast and leaning up on her elbow, wondering if perhaps she will make a kill tonight.

“No, Princess,” Hux says, her voice just slightly breathless, her hips markedly rolling while she walks in quick steps back where she belongs. “You’re only quite loud and I don’t anyone checking.”

Ren blinks and peeks awkwardly down to her sweat-slicked bosom and flushed thighs, skin still slick between them; she _had_ shouted, then.

“I’d like your mouth on me,” Hux demands, descending down again to the couch with a predatory slink, fingers trailing up and down the inside of Ren’s arm. “Promptly.”

“Would you?” Ren says, dropping her eyes to Hux’s groin, dusted as it is in pretty ginger hair, before looking back to her face. “How do you know I’m any good?”

Hux eyes her for a few seconds, then hums, seeming truly thoughtful. “I am at a point where I couldn’t care.”

“You’re meant to say that I don’t look like I could be awful," Ren says, as a frown pulls at her mouth, shifting to sit upright on the chaise. 

Hux reaches down and takes Ren’s chin in her palm, shaking her some while leaning in with a flat smirk. “That arrogance is unbecoming, your highness.”

“Shut up,” Ren mutters, now irked that Hux has turned the title so mocking, and promptly decides showing will be better than telling. She pulls from the grasp, slipping down to the carpet next to the lounge and curling her legs underneath her; she looks up to Hux, gesturing for her to move. “You’ll see it’s not arrogance.”

“Good Lord,” Hux huffs, settling down on the chaise so she’s facing Ren and bracketing her with those long, lovely legs. “You needn’t be on the floor.”

Ren ignores the taunt, her attention drawn downward to the peek of pink between Hux’s legs. She slides her hand up Hux’s stockinged knee to her thigh, then tugs, pulling her ass to the edge of the cushion and forcing her legs wider around Ren.

“Alright, then,” Hux says, lifting the thigh Ren is holding to over her shoulder, thoroughly exposing her pretty cunt and the layer of slick already sheening the coils of her hair. "Prove it."

Ren wets her lips briefly before leaning forward, taking a beat to inhale the scent of Hux’s mound before lifting a hand, sliding her thumb between the spare folds and licking up against the jut of a clit. She starts slow, tracing with her tongue in small licks around Hux’s clit and down her swollen labia, dipping in briefly at her entrance, and committing every twitch of sensitivity to her memory.

She raises some on her knees and tucks her other hand at Hux’s lower back to driving her pelvis forward, flattening her tongue while she goes back to concentrate briefly at the underside of her clit, then tracing shapes up and around while listening for any appreciation. She opens her eyes when Hux keeps almost completely silent even after minutes, and peeks up in askance, only to blink in bemusement.

Hux _looks_ to be most certainly enjoying the attention. She has even turned the most fetching shade of pink, hallowed blood flowing quicker through her than usual. Her is back arched, leg flexing over Ren’s shoulder, but most lovely of all is the expression on her face, eyes closed and mouth half-open with _silent_ moans.

Ren hums low and retreats with a parting lick at a twitching clit, then takes her hand from Hux’s back to push at her waist to urge her onto her side against the chaise pillow. "Lie down."

"Your knees that bad?" Hux taunts, her eyes peeking open and voice just slightly breathy. She doesn't move for a few seconds, but soon she slumps over indolently, one arm curling over the pillow while her thighs rub pointedly together as they fall closed upon each other. "How tragic. I should've known the fae were inbred."

Ren shakes her head and wets her lips as she bends over the sofa, squeezing at the topmost thigh before wrapping her hand around it and spreading Hux open again to return to her task, a heel once more brushing at her back. She uses the new angle to open Hux wider with her thumb and finger, leaning in and experimentally pressing inside Hux with her tongue until she’s certain it’s welcome by resulting hastened breath, then gradually brings just a part of her other form through to lick in even deeper.

“Fuck,” Hux swears loud, her hand wrenching tight in Ren’s hair and pushing her further into her cunt. “You witch.”

Ren feels her lips awkwardly twitch with a smirk, still rolling her tongue inside Hux’s cunt while rubbing at her clit with a thumb. She withdraws a few moments later, returning to licking heavy, shaking her head and rolling her tongue until it has Hux writhing.

The outburst seems to have opened a dam, as Hux’s whimpers now pitch between gasps while her hips gyrate up against Ren’s mouth. The noise is desperate, _pleased_, and echoing the room until abruptly she goes quiet again, as if choked. Ren shifts quick to delve into her cunt once more just as the muscle starts to contract, thrusting her tongue against the spasms while listening to Hux’s quiet, lilting keen. She keeps going until the point she evidently pushes her luck, letting Hux shove her away with shaky hands and watching her twitching legs squeeze tight together.

Ren leans back on her heels, wiping at her chin and slowly looking up to catch Hux’s eye with a silent raise of a brow.

Hux stares back a few lazy seconds, then reaches out, rudely pressing a pair of fingers to Ren’s forehead to make her look further up. Her voice has a slight rasp when she speaks, “Show me the tongue.”

Ren huffs and opens her mouth, letting her other tongue loll out; it’s not that much longer than her human one, perhaps an inch or so, but it’s enough to matter.

Hux seems to find it more intriguing than it deserves, and her hand drops as if she might touch. “Is it a spell?”

Ren dismisses it with a shake of her head. “I simply have two forms, like you.”

“I haven’t got two forms, only hidden teeth,” Hux says with a huff, briefly snarling to show off sharp, bestial teeth bursting from her gums, then disappearing just as quickly with a drop of her lips. “You see?”

Ren shrugs slightly, feeling her ears burn now for the wrong reasons. “Your eyes get different as well.”

Hux goes quiet for a length, said eyes steady on Ren, until she effectively sprawls back onto lounge. “Would you like a taste of something else?” She asks, tilting her head at an inviting angle on the cushioned arm.

Ren hesitates for a few seconds, dragging her tongue across her lip, then moves eager; she forgoes the offered jugular, instead wrapping her hand around Hux’s ribs at the same time she prompts her face to shift into something longer, her teeth growing needlelike just before she sinks them around the small, pink shape of a nipple over a silent heart. She sucks the sweet blood into her mouth before she dismisses her teeth, pressing at the spare swell of Hux’s breast to prompt more blood to flow before it can heal.

Hux gasps faintly, still for a pair of worrisome beats, then her hand is at the back of Ren’s head, cradling it while the trickling blood is licked clean from her breast. She huffs a few seconds later, a charming noise that seems more mystified than amused, then reaches up with her other hand, using her thumb to slide across Ren’s lip once it’s free from her breast. “Filthy girl. Lucky you’re so pretty.”

Ren feels a renewed blush across her cheeks, startled to hear honesty in the murmured tone. She’s not been called pretty in a terribly long time. She licks out to take remaining blood from the thumb, savoring the divine tang, and wonders if she’s just made a deal with a genuine devil. She doesn’t particularly _care_ at the moment, still held tight and cool fingers soothing at her cheek, but she can’t help but think she will in a few hours.

…Maybe. A premier, however informal, would certainly get Mother off her back when she comes calling. And better, Hux seems to want to conduct all the pointless bureaucracy, which is more than welcome.

“I’m still hungry,” Ren admits with a whine, as satisfaction wanes and she becomes uncomfortably aware that she’s not _quite_ satiated. “You were meant to be my first meal in days.”

Hux tuts quietly, unabashedly mocking, then goes quiet for a few beats that lead to an actual sigh. “You have a point.”

**Author's Note:**

> I can also be found on the [twitters @ ezlebe](https://twitter.com/ezlebe?lang=en) ~


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